


wicked games

by bravepress



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravepress/pseuds/bravepress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis tucks him in and sleeps on the sofa for the first time in months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wicked games

 

 

"If you didn't come back with pizza I'm not letting you in," announces Louis as he unlocks the deadbolt. "All we've got left is bread and eggs. I might actually starve to death." It's not like Harry's in the wrong for wanting to fill every shelf in the fridge with fruit, but Louis needs greasy food sometimes, same as anyone else.

Something thumps against the door before Louis can get it all the way open. He frowns, and unhooks the chain. The door pushes in. Harry is swaying slightly at the top of the steps.

"Haz?"

"Help. Help me." His voice is soft and tight, almost childish. Louis catches him and slows his fall, looping an ankle behind his knees so he doesn't hit the ground headfirst. He's gotten so gangly, recently. He smells like blood, like antifreeze and cheap leather.

Things go a little fuzzy, after that. Dream like.

 

 

"Do you want me to call someone?" he asks quietly.

"No, no. Please," Harry chokes. Louis starts to smooth down the wrinkled front of his jumper. There's a spot of blood on the collar, from the cut across his forehead.

Louis feels faintly nauseated. Harry has always been so spread out, so translucent. It's been so easy to see his intentions, and right now he's closed-off and blank eyed. Louis has no idea what he's supposed to do.

He's been given something. Or he's taken something, maybe, but either way there's something off about him. Harry's pupils are blown, and he's shaking, teeth clenched. He's not even clinging the way he normally does when he's scared. Louis sucks in a breath, because this is new and terrifying. He doesn't want to think about it. "I don't know-"

"Lou, please. Don't."

"Okay. It's okay." He reaches up to touch Harry's forehead. Harry's hand drops to the ground from where he'd been gripping Louis' wrist, and Louis holds him still while he shudders. "It's okay, babes. Do you want to talk to one of the boys, maybe?" He's not going to be upset if Harry opens up to Zayn or Niall instead of him. They've all got things they can only really talk about in front of certain people. More than anything else, he just wants Harry to be okay.

"I can't, please don't make me. Please don't."

"It's okay. I promise, just give me a minute." Louis' mouth has gone dry.  _What do I do, what can I do-_

Harry's skin is jumping under his fingers. He flinches anytime Louis moves his hands. He won't think about it yet; he doesn't have the time or self-control to deal with these facts in a productive way.

"It hurts." Harry's voice is so weak.

"I know, babes." He thumbs over the back of Harry's hand. The swoop of relief in his chest when Harry doesn't immediately push him away is almost overbearing.

 

 

They sit together for as long as Harry can bear it, but a few moments later he whimpers and twists onto his side, his hand tightening over Louis' fingers. 

"Sorry," he slurs. "Feels weird."

The dark stain on the seat of his pants is obvious. Louis wants to be sick.

"I think a trip to A&E might be a good idea, Haz." Louis can hardly breathe for how much he wants to scoop Harry up and hold him, keep him warm and safe until he's he's himself again, until they can all figure out how to fix what happened. He settles for smoothing down Harry's hair, but Harry flinches and jerks backwards. "Sorry. I-I'm sorry."

"No," whispers Harry. He inches away from Louis before he can stop himself, and ends up scraping the backs of his thighs against the hard floor. His hand hits the ground and he cries out before pushing his face against Louis' leg, mumbling  _no it's okay please don't i can't-_

"You're okay, I'm sorry. Gonna get you in the car really soon, alright? Do you-" he needs to stop. He needs to let Harry work things out on his own. It's just that not every expensive London club is as clean as it seems, and he's seen a couple of awful things. He thinks he can see the aftermath of equally horrible things in Harry. He doesn't want it to be true. He's scared. "Er. Listen. Did th- did someone give you something? Or did you take something, maybe?"

"Ngh- no, yeah. In my water bottle, I think." He's so quiet. It sounds like he's hardly breathing. But he's still shivering, twitching a little against Louis' leg. Louis files that away as information to give to the doctor, because he's still not sure what to do with it.

"Okay. Sorry."

"S' fine, just. I can't."

"Somebody hurt you, Harry." That's as much as he knows. That's all that matters. Louis wants to do horrible, violent things to whoever did this to his-

-to Harry.

"I know. I know." He digs his face into Louis' thigh and Louis feels him start to shake again.

 

 

Harry talks him out of getting checked by a doctor. He's fine,  _honestly, Lou, I'm okay, not even bleeding anymore._ Louis only knows this is true because Harry needs help getting dressed, after he's taken the equivalent of four or five showers in a row. His thighs and lower back are splotchy with bruises. He's started to come down from whatever he was given. He's slurring a little less.

He still won't let Louis touch his hair. He's not hungry, and all he wants to do is go to bed.

Louis tucks him in and sleeps on the sofa for the first time in months.

 

 

Louis isn't sure what they would have done if they hadn't already been on break. It's impossible to get Harry to talk on the phone to anyone. He starts shaking anytime Louis mentions having the boys over. Eventually Louis stops mentioning it.

 

 

"He's just been ill, yeah."

"Been like a week and a half, though, mate. You're sure it's not serious?"

Louis closes the back door behind him. He only has a few minutes to talk, really; Harry's in the shower and he'll panic if Louis isn't in the house when he gets out. "It's just his stomach. Nerves on top of the flu, seems like. You know how he gets."

Zayn hums sympathetically. "Give him our love."

"Sure."

 

 

Harry has panic attacks and nightmares that keep him awake for days at a time. He won't turn on his phone, and he won't talk to anyone except Louis; it's like he's refusing to think about what happened (the blood and whimpers and bruises,  _god_ ). He googles his name obsessively, like he's worried about something, and Louis doesn't quiet  _get it_ until he tries to take Harry's computer away.

"You're making yourself feel worse," he reasons, slipping the laptop under his arm. He knows, rationally, that Harry needs time to heal, and that he needs to do it in his own way. But this kind of single-minded focus is unusual and more than a little disturbing. It's like Red or Black all over again.

Harry looks at him in complete shock. "I need that back," he says after a moment. "Lou, please. Don't be a twat, I need it."

"You need to talk to us, not just fade away behind a screen," Louis says. "Niall's worried. He thinks he's done something to make you angry."

This is probably not the right thing to say. He's supposed to be comforting. Supportive. But he's been holding Harry's hand for the last two weeks, letting him fall asleep watching awful cartoons with this head in Louis' lap. And he'd be happy doing that forever, maybe (as much as he won't allow himself to admit it), but they've got things they have to do, music they have to make, a band they need to be part of.

"He hasn't," whispers Harry. "I just- please, I don't want to talk about it. Just give it back."

Louis shakes his head.

Harry finally gets angry, and the aftermath is brutal.

 

 

"You don't understand," Harry says. He sounds like he might be crying, and  _fuck._ "You don't know."

"Help me understand, Haz. Please. I want to help you." Louis leans his forehead against the door between them.

"You knowing isn't going to help."

"It's not good to keep shit like this inside," says Louis. He knows, from years of buildup aout his dad leaving. All it does is hurt. "You're hurting. You might- you'll feel better if you talk about what's wrong." He feels so desperate, so full up with love. "I just want you to be okay."

It's silent for a few seconds. The air feels heavy with it.

The door swings open.

 

 

"Just sit- sit on the bed," mumbles Harry. "You need to. I'm gonna be over here." He slides down the wall, knees tucked under his chin. His eyes are red. He looks so young.

"Okay," Louis says quietly. Okay. He wants to kill whoever did this. He thinks he probably always will.

"M' gonna talk. So just, like. Just listen, okay? Please. I need you to not say anything."

"Okay."

Harry takes a deep breath. "Remember that video on my phone? The one from about a month ago."

Of course he does. Harry had come home grinning, blushing, thumbing through his photo album until he got to one with a screenshot of bedsheets.  _Lou, check this out. You won't believe what she wanted me to do-_

They watched the whole thing together, Harry looking rather deservedly proud at the end. "Christ, H," said Lou, impressed. He feelt a weirdly stabbing bit of jealousy that some stranger had seen Harry like that, watched him take himself apart. He sort of wished it had been him filming, but they weren't those sort of mates. It was hot. It was  _fine._ He grinned at Harry and decided not to think about it.

"So, um. Someone hacked my phone, and he got the video of it, and. And some other stuff. And he emailed me a link to it, to show he had it."

Harry toys with the hem of his shirt. He's going to rip it if he's not careful. "He, um. He said he'd sell them, if I didn't- if I didn't do something for him. I thought he just wanted money, so. I thought it was okay."

 _We have an entire management company that deals with things like this,_ thinks Louis.  _We have bodyguards. What the_ fuck,  _Harry._ But he gets it. He does. Harry likes to take care of personal things on his own, the same way they all have their little quirks when it comes to dealing with publicity. This is an extension of that. It's probably a little late for the lecture on personal safety.

"So I met up with him at Starbucks? The one on the corner? And he, like. It was in my water, I think he gave me something when I wasn't looking. But he got me out to this car, I guess it was his, and I didn't know what to do, Louis, I  _swear_ , it's like I couldn't push him off."

"Oh.  _Haz._ "

Harry shakes his head. "He ra- oh, fuck. I didn't want it. I didn't want him to."

"Harry, it's okay," says Louis, a little desperately. He can't stay quiet, not with Harry starting to fall apart like this in front of him. "I know you didn't. You're safe here. It's okay."

"I didn't want it," Harry chokes. "I didn't. He said he'd post-" he's doubled over, gasping. This has been building for the last week and a half and something inside Louis feels like it breaks. No- he's pretty sure something actually has broken in him, hearing this, knowing that there isn't actually anything he can do to fix it. "He said he'd hurt me, if I didn't do what he wanted."

"And you've been making sure he hasn't," says Louis. He feels so angry. He's pretty sure he doesn't deserve to. He hasn't been much help. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this happened to you, god. I didn't know."

He doesn't get an answer. Harry is shaking so hard and yeah, this is the edge of a panic attack. Louis gets on the floor next to him and helps him get a hand on his stomach, coaches him through the breathing until he's crying a little less.

"I'll find him. Me and Liam. We'll hurt him."  _Please Harry tell me what else I can do, I'm so scared for you. I'm so scared of how angry I am._

Harry shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. I just. I want to forget this ever happened."

"It doesn't work like that, babe," Louis says slowly. 

"I know. I know, fuck."

"It'll be okay. We'll get you through this."

Louis prays he's right.


End file.
